


that flower resembles you and i'm calling it love

by LostHowl



Category: DC's Legends of Tomorrow (TV), The Flash (TV 2014)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Emotional Rollercoaster, Flowers, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, I'm Sorry, Idiots in Love, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Language of Flowers, M/M, Mild Angst, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, Why Did I Write This?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-05-07
Updated: 2018-05-07
Packaged: 2019-05-02 23:06:07
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14555508
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LostHowl/pseuds/LostHowl
Summary: “First love,” Snart says as Barry walks past his shoulder, and Barry whips around so fast he would’ve gotten whiplash if he wasn't a speedster. “A sweet disposition. Don’t tell me those are for your childhood sweetheart?”“Those?” Barry asks, and Snart tilts his head towards the bouquet in Barry’s hands. The colour that Barry's face changes to puts his suit to shame. “Oh. No, they- I mean, I didn’t buy them because- I didn’t know-”(Len and Barry's relationship, as told through flowers and colours.)





	that flower resembles you and i'm calling it love

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [the wonder of you](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13749351) by [CanadianSnow (ShelbyCelina)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShelbyCelina/pseuds/CanadianSnow). 



**_One: indigo, larkspurs_ **

**_Indigo is for innocent mistakes, for stutters and stammers, for the treacherous way your heart races. Indigo is the colour of the sky as the sun sets, the colour so vibrant that it puts Barry’s lightning to shame. Indigo is for mistakes that you wouldn’t mind repeating._ **

 

“Hold on, Iris, I’m just-” Barry pushes the door to the flower shop open while sandwiching his phone in between his shoulder and ear, digging his wallet out of his pocket. “I’m just getting flowers,”

“Hi, how can I help you?” an employee asks, walking up to Barry. And Barry stutters, trying to isolate sounds between Iris on the phone and the employee at the store. He offers the employee an awkward smile, and she politely waits while Barry listens to Iris.

“- and he got shot, and I don’t know if he’s going to be okay,” she finishes, and Barry picks up the nearest bouquet, handing it to the employee with a pleading face. He comforts Iris softly on the phone, trying hard not to use his speed to wrap this up in a few seconds, toss money on the counter, and run.

“That’ll be-” the employee says, but Barry just hands her half the cash in his wallet - definitely enough to buy another bouquet - and calls “keep the change!” before taking his flowers and rushing back out.

“I’ll be there in a minute, Iris, I’m right across the stree-” Barry says, then cuts himself off with a swear when he runs right into someone, stumbling and falling back. He manages to catch the flowers before they hit the ground, but his phone doesn’t share the same fate.

“I’m so sorry, I wasn’t-” Barry starts, stuttering, but then finds himself looking at a very familiar pair of blue eyes behind a pair of glasses that most definitely don’t belong on that face. “What the hell?”

“Not the kindest greeting I’ve ever received,” Snart admits, standing up and dusting his coat off. Barry scrambles to his feet, phone long forgotten, and checks the flowers to make sure they’re not damaged.

“What- Can you even be outside like that?” Barry asks after determining that he doesn’t need to go back to the flower shop to give the employee the rest of the money in his wallet.

“It’s cute that you worry, Barry,” Snart’s lips curve into a smirk, and Barry rolls his eyes. “But I’m doing quite well so far,”

“Listen, I-” Barry starts, Shifting on his feet and sighing when his foot hits his phone, reminding him of the hospital, and Iris, and Eddie, who’s probably still in surgery. “Shit. I have to go,”

“Such language,” Snart shook his head in disappointment. “Didn’t dear Detective West teach his children not to curse?”

“Shut up,” Barry picks his phone up, but Iris has ended the call. She’s left a dozen texts already, a lot about Eddie, some about if he’s okay, asking what happened, and Barry wonders if Iris has become a speedster with how fast she’s typing and sending the incoming messages.

“Emergency?” Snart asks. “If you need a villain in a second, Barry, you can always ask me,”

“No, I don’t,” Barry hisses out. “I have to go,”

“First love,” Snart says as Barry walks past his shoulder, and Barry whips around so fast he would’ve gotten whiplash if he wasn't a speedster. “A sweet disposition. Don’t tell me those are for your childhood sweetheart?”

“those?” Barry asks, and Snart tilts his head towards the bouquet in Barry’s hands. The colour of that Barry’s face turns puts his suit to shame. “Oh. No, they- I mean, I didn’t buy them because- I didn’t know-”

“Oh, let me guess,” Snart says, and Barry hates that he’s having so much fun with this. “For Miss West’s fiancé?”

“Yes, exactly, and I have to go,” Barry says urgently, tilting his head towards the hospital. _“Now,”_

“When have I ever stopped you, Scarlet?”

“Alphabetically or chronologically?” Barry mutters. When Snart opens his mouth to retort, he quickly shakes his head and adds, “bye!” before turning on his heel and leaving.

Barry runs across the street before the light changes, asking the front desk at the hospital for Eddie Thawne’s room. He makes it up and immediately runs up to Iris, apologizing a hundred times and hugging her, letting her cry into his shoulder. He looks at the flowers in his hands over Iris’ shoulder and holds back a sigh; he feels like the victim of some cosmic joke - if that joke had startling blue eyes and an annoying smirk.

Barry wonders how Snart gets under his skin so easily. He can’t possibly be that easy to irritate him, right? He also wonders what Snart’s reaction would’ve been if he’d given him the flowers after learning what they mean.

(When Iris asks if his heart always beats that fast, he says it’s a speedster thing. Although it is, it also isn’t, but Iris doesn’t need to know that.)

 

**_Two: green, hydrangeas_ **

**_Green is far from greed, lust, craving, and envy. Green is for confirming, for nodding your head yes, for giving into the little devil on your shoulder. Green is for realizations and admissions, for silly smiles, for stupid laughs; for saying yes even when you shouldn’t._ **

 

Barry can’t stop thinking about those godforsaken larkspurs.

Every word that has a similar beginning or ending, or even has letters in common, suddenly reads as ‘larkspurs’ to Barry. ‘Lakeside’, ‘Lantern’ - hell, even ‘lighthouse’. What a joke. And as if that isn’t bad enough, it’s happening with every flower ever.

Like the time Cisco and Harry were discussing a new meta’s powers, and Barry heard ‘dark matter’ as ‘daffodils’ (no, seriously).

Or like the time Caitlin had been talking about his vitals, and about the changes he’d need to make in his diet, and he’s misheard ‘calories’ as ‘carnations’.

Or the time Wally was rambling on and on about one of his ideas, not even stopping to breathe, and Barry swears Wally had said ‘marigold’ and not ‘motor oil’.

If he didn’t feel like the victim of a cosmic joke before, he sure as hell does now.

“Hey, Bear, you busy?” Eddie asks, poking his head into Barry’s lab. He’s healed fully now, back at work, and both Barry and Iris are eternally relieved. Barry smiles at the way Eddie’s come to adopt the family nickname.

“Just waiting on some results, what’s up?” he asks, looking over his computer screen as the mass spectrometer works behind.

“We need you at a crime scene,” Eddie says. “There was a gunpoint robbery at a store downtown. Apparently, the first responders found some sort of green paste,”

“Paste?” Barry asks as he gets his jacket, phone, and forensic kit.

“Honestly no idea,” Eddie says, shrugging. Barry changes the setting on his systems so it’ll shut everything down once the results from the mass spec come in, and then follows Eddie out.

“Is it poisonous?” Barry asks as he pulls on his jacket, taking his kit back from Eddie, who’d carried it while his hands were busy.

“Apparently not, but they want to let you make that deduction,” Eddie says, then adds, “Criminals these days,”

“Oh, yeah,” Barry says, almost hitting himself for hearing ‘daffodil’ instead of ‘deduction’. “Tell me about it,”

The green paste turns out to be ground hydrangea petals. Barry already has  _that_ feeling about this - the feeling of rocks in his stomach, his legs feeling ten times heavier, his heart in his hands. It’s usually the feeling he gets when he’s chasing Snart, or meeting his eyes across an iced room.

Two days later, there’s a heist. Snart’s stealing jewels that were coming in for a display at a museum, and Barry finds himself cursing Central City for not putting more security around the _one_ van with millions of dollars worth of jewels in it. Snart’s plan to use Mark to distract Barry works, and he gets away with it. Barry makes it to the empty van seconds before the police. It’s swept clean, except for one single green petal that lies inside. Barry doesn’t need to take it back to his lab to know what it is.

He gets home after midnight, dragging his feet and dropping his keys twice before finally being able to unlock the door to his apartment. Moving out of Joe’s place had been far harder than he was expecting, especially because his salary narrowed his housing options down to practically four places.

Barry drops his keys on the table near his door and is about to step in and go straight to bed, but his foot hits something before he can even take a full step in.

_Don’t forget to lock your windows, Barry._

_No hard feelings. It’s Lisa’s birthday tomorrow._

_\-  your favourite villain_

Hydrangeas.

A fucking pot of hydrangeas.

Even in Barry’s sleep deprived, exhausted, and disoriented state, he can laugh at the flowers. He kicks his door shut and picks up the flowers, placing them near a closed window.

He pulls out his phone, and just for good measure, looks it up. _Hydrangeas symbolize heartfelt emotions_. Well, of _course_ they do.

Barry’s certain that his windows had been locked. He’s also certain that lock picking is on Snart’s Resume.

 

**_Three: orange, tiger lilies_ **

**_Orange is for the warmth in your chest that puts the warmth of sunrises and sunsets to shame. Orange is for being careful and calculated, for accounting for everything, for boundaries. Orange is for drawing lines, and then crossing all of them._ **

 

Len hates it when his plans encounter problems. He hates it even further when those problems can’t be solved with his cold gun, or with Mick’s heat gun. He hates problems, fullstop.

 _But you’re soft for the kid,_  a voice that sounds suspiciously like Mick says in his head, and he looks across the table at his partner, who doesn’t even notice his gaze and takes a sip of beer casually.

Saints & Sinners has turned out to be “their spot”, of sorts, not to make them sound like high schoolers. Len glances across the bar to where Lisa is gracefully playing billiards with Mark and Hartley, and then to the other side, where Axel and Jesse are cackling in the corner. He narrows his eyes at them, and they roll theirs in return - _too synchronized -_ as if to say, _yes, we remember the ‘no explosions’ rule._

“Well,” Mick declares, standing up. “‘M out,”

"Not like you to step out early,” Len says, interest piqued.

“Not like  _you_ to sit alone and not touch your alcohol,” Mick says pointedly in return and is gone before Len can say anything back. He’s right, though, his glass of whiskey is practically untouched, whereas Mick has lined up empty bottles of beer. It’s almost astounding.

He supposes it’s for the best, though. Tonight’s heist was just for him, Lisa, and Hartley, so Mick leaving early could prove to be useful. Ten minutes before the heist is supposed to kick off, Axel and Jesse step out after pulling faces at Snart. Some days he has to remind himself why they’re still there.

Precisely two minutes later, Mark nods at Len and leaves. He groups with Lisa and Hartley at the billiards table, about to speak, when his burner rings. It’s Mick.

“What, Mick?” he says into the phone, slightly irritated. Mick is one of those problems that can’t be taken care of with his gun. Well, to be more accurate, he’s one of the problems that Len doesn’t _want to_ take care of with his gun, but semantics.

“You’re not gonna like this,” Mick has the decency to warn him, and Len takes a sharp breath. “Goods are gone,”

“Say that again,” he says, and Hartley and Lisa exchange a look. Len holds his hand up in a pause sign when Hartley asks for confirmation about disabling security cameras.

“It’s all gone,” Mick says. “Wasn’t tryin' to get in the way, but the empty truck's parked outside the safehouse,”

“Outside the-” Len’s hand changes to a cancelled sign. “I’ll be there,”

“What’s wrong, Lenny?” Lisa asks after Len ends the call and lowers the phone, taking a calculated breath.

“What’s _wrong,_ Lisa,” he says slowly, “is that the Flash is a pain in my ass,”

“I’ll drink to that,” Hartley says before tipping his shot glass back, swallowing the liquid that burns its way down his throat.

Len goes back to the safehouse first. Mick’s right, the truck that they were going to steal from is parked outside the house, and Len angrily walks up to it. He can feel his nerves slowly lighting on fire, his urge to set the truck on fire rising, his anger rising and rising until it’s suddenly gone.

It all disappears in a split second.

“Oh, for the love of..” he mutters, reaching into the open window of the passenger seat, pulling out one single flower: a tiger lily. There’s a paper near it, _of course there is,_ and Len takes it out next.

_I was gonna give you the same window line, but it isn’t really funny. You’re gonna have to explain why you wrote it to me._

_No hard feelings, though, I’m still saving the city and all._

_\- your favourite speedster_

“A flower?” Hartley asks from behind, and Len puts the note into the pocket of his parka before turning around. Lisa’s standing next to him, looking particularly irritated that she didn’t get to use her gold gun.

“It’s a challenge,” Len corrects, and Lisa rolls her eyes at her brother.

“Lenny, if you just spoke to people like humans do, maybe your secret admirer wouldn’t have to send cryptic messages through stolen trucks and lilies. You’re the reason why a girl can’t have fun anymore,”

“Many apologies,” he says to his sister, who walks into the safehouse, heels clicking behind her.

“A challenge?” Hartley asks, raising an eyebrow. “It’s a flower,”

“It means ‘I dare you’,” Len says, looking at the orange flower in his hands. It’s too soft, too gentle, too precious to be in his hands. Hartley seems satisfied with that - or maybe he’s too drunk to care - and goes into the safehouse next. Len waits, looking at the flower still.

He’d lied.

Tiger lilies don’t just mean _I dare you;_ they mean _I dare you to love me._

 

**_Four: blue, morning glories_ **

**_Blue is for soft petals, for soft kisses, for breathless moments that last forever. Blue is for wanting to be close, close, and closer, for wanting to drown into the other, for wanting to melt; Blue is for Len’s eyes._ **

 

“Just to be clear,” Barry huffs after skidding to a stop in front of Len, running a hand through his windswept hair. “Me agreeing to go on a date with you does _not_ mean you win this flower battle,”

“Of course it doesn’t,” Len says, smirking in a way that Barry thought only movie characters did before he became a speedster. “But you agreed nonetheless,”

“So, uh,” Barry changes the subject, looking around at the empty lot they’re standing in. “Not the most romantic place I’ve been to, I’ll be honest,”

“One of my safehouses is nearby,” Len says, looking at the way the darkening sky hits Barry’s skin, pushing down the urge to kiss every single one of his freckles. “We’re planning to destroy it in a few days, but I figured we-”

“Woah, woah!” Barry covers Len’s mouth with his hands, muffling his words. Len narrows his eyes when Barry moves his hands and offers him a sheepish smile. “I’m still a CSI. Don’t admit to any more future crimes in front of me, okay?”

“Afraid you can’t arrest your boyfriend, Barry?” Len can’t stop the words before they roll off his tongue, but Barry flushes red, shuffling his feet in the sand under them. The resolve to not kiss him yet is getting weaker.

“Come on,” Len says, and Barry walks next to him, asking him all sorts of preposterous questions that Len wants to lie about.

Barry’s incredibly pleased to find that there is an unnatural amount of blankets in the safehouse. He coerces Len into making a mountain of blankets in front of the TV and watch movies. They spend a few minutes in the kitchen filling bowls with all sorts of unhealthy food, and it’s only before Len’s about to make popcorn does an idea occur to him.

He asks Barry if he’s ever made popcorn using his super speed. Barry looks innocently confused and intrigued, but says no. Evidently, he shouldn’t have tried, either, because ten seconds into Barry holding the packet of popcorn and vibrating his hands, the entire thing explodes and kernels and butter go everywhere.

“This is why I have a Cisco,” Barry mutters while picking kernels out of his hair. “You need a Cisco,”

Len doesn’t argue.

After sloppily cleaning up the kitchen (because Len doesn’t think it matters and because Barry’s too lazy to use his speed to), they collapse onto their pile of blankets, and Barry reaches for the remote with one hand and for the candy bowl with his other.

“No,” Len says hardly thirty seconds later, taking the remote when Barry stops at a channel playing Star Wars.

“Wha- hey! Come on!”

“It’s _Attack of the Clones_ ,” Len says, scoffing. Barry pauses.

“Huh?”

“Criminal, Barry, not a caveman,”

Barry can’t seem to believe that Len’s seen Star Wars. He incessantly quizzes him about things, starting easy with Darth Vader’s identity, and then moving into midichlorians, and Len shoves a twizzler into Barry’s mouth to shut him up.

“You-” Barry starts, but his phone rings. He’d only turned his ringer on in case Cisco or Caitlin called, so he gave Len an apologetic glance before accepting the call.

“Cisco, you’re not going to believe this,” he says into the phone, then pauses abruptly. Len flicks through channels mindlessly. “What do you mean?”

“Emergency?” he asks casually, and Barry looks at him before stuttering into the phone that he’d be there soon.

“I’m so sorry,” Barry says apologetically. “I’ll be back in a few seconds, I promise, I-”

Len turns his head to look at Barry with an eyebrow raised, and reaches for the back of his head with one hand. Barry freezes up, and Len’s lips curve upwards while he presses a kiss to Barry’s cheek and whispers, “run, Barry, run,”

Barry practically disappears. Len chuckles to himself as he changes the channel back to watch Star Wars.

“Hey,” Barry says to Cisco, looking far more out of breath than he should. “Hey, Cisco, what’s-”

“Uh, yeah,” Cisco says awkwardly as they both stand at the entrance to the cortex, surrounded by hundreds of - you guessed it - flowers. Barry’s heart melts.

“Is there a card?” he asks, and Cisco shrugs.

“I didn’t go in, so I dunno. Cams were off, no one was here..” Cisco trails off, following Barry into the room. The speedster finds a card stuck to one of the computer’s monitors.

_Sorry to interrupt our date for this, but surprise._

_Lisa said this was too much, but you know me._

_\- your favourite_

Barry dashes off before Cisco can get another word in. Morning glories. _Morning fucking glories._ He speeds into the safehouse and tackles Len into the mountain of blankets, pressing their lips together with so much energy and excitement, buzzing like a live wire.

“Morning glories,” he breathes after pulling back, and Len looks like his brain is still scrambling to figure out what just happened. “Affection, longing,” he laughs breathlessly. “God, I can’t believe you- you stupid little-”

“Surprise,” Len manages softly, and no amount of self-control could have stopped Barry from kissing him then.

**_Five: red, roses_ **

**_Red is for endless passion, affection, and wanting. Red is for the feeling of an adrenaline rush, for the feeling of falling in love, for looking at someone like they’re your entire universe. Red is for Barry’s lightning, for his suit, for the way Len calls him ‘Scarlet’._ **

Barry wishes, sometimes, that his powers were controlling time instead of running fast, just so he can freeze time and spend an eternity in bed with Len in the mornings.

“I have work,” he mumbles as Len runs his fingers through his messy hair, gently smoothing it back before pressing kisses at the top of his head. Barry curls up against Len peacefully, tugging the blanket to cover them properly.

“You can speed there,” Len says softly.

They never ended up demolishing the safehouse where he and Barry had their first date. They end up spending a lot of nights there, still surrounded by the mountains of blankets. Barry brought over his hydrangea plant and they’d repotted it together (and decided to name her ‘violet’, because red and blue).

“Can’t be late,” Barry says, even softer, turning to press a kiss to Len’s cheek before getting up. “Captain Singh will throw me out of the window,”

“Can’t be pleasant,” Len murmurs, gently running his hand over Barry’s back. The Speedster shivers softly and gives Len a fond smile before throwing a blanket over his face and speeding into the bathroom.

Barry gets to work and finds a box of samples to examine on his desk. He takes a few minutes to check his email and texts before getting ready to work, checking all his equipment at super speed. He’s barely gone through the first two bags of evidence when Eddie comes into his lab, holding a vase of dozens of roses.

“For Iris?” Barry asks, smiling. “She’d love them,”

“Uh, no,” Eddie says awkwardly. “I ran into the delivery guy. They’re for you,”

“Me?” Barry asks, clarifying, and Eddie sets the flowers down on his desk. Barry takes his gloves off and comes closer to the red roses, smiling like an idiot.

“Okay, you have to tell me all about her,”

“Him,”

“Him,” Eddie amends. “I’m not taking no for an answer. Lunch today, Barry!”

“Huh? Wait, wha-” “I mean it!”

“Eddie!”

Barry glances at his computer, wondering if there’s a Cosmopolitan article on how to tell the detective fiancé of the former love of your life that your current boyfriend is a notorious criminal. But then he glances at the flowers again, and his organs turn to mush. He gently takes the card out of the flowers, ignoring the mass spec’s beeping, and reads it.

_This is the closest I’ll get to saying it._

_-_ _your favourite_

Of all the cheesy, stupid, romantic things Len could’ve done, Barry definitely didn’t expect this one. He doesn’t need to look it up to know what red roses mean.

Iris texts him a long, excited thank you message right around lunch, telling him about how Eddie got her a hundred red roses and how he mentioned it being Barry’s idea. Barry laughs while writing down results from his tests, texting back a _name your first child after me_ , to which he gets a _middle name?_. Fair’s fair; he’ll take it.

He then calls Len on his burner phone, waiting two rings before he picks up.

“Did you get my gift?” Len says into the phone right after picking up.

“Are you trying to smother me with all your sweetness?” Barry asks, gently running his fingers over the petals of the roses.

“Is it working?"

“I love them,” Barry whispers after a small laugh. “I love _you_ ,”

“And here I was, expecting a flower delivery for some other flowers that mean ‘I love you’,” Len fakes disappointment. “You’re losing your touch, Scarlet,”

“Don’t be so frosty,” Barry says, then groans softly. “I’ve spent too much time with you,”

Len’s chuckle made it worth it. Eddie pokes his head in, and Barry realizes it’s time for lunch. He nods at Eddie and stands up.

“I gotta go,” he says, taking his jacket and wallet. “I’ll see you later,”

“I’ll stay open to a delivery. Just make sure you tell ‘em to leave it at the door and go,”

“Okay, drama queen,” Barry says affectionately, ending the call.

“Who was that?” Eddie asks, his grin too wide.

“Cisco,” Barry lies, and Eddie rolls his eyes as they leave the lab.

“In that tone, with that expression?” he raises an eyebrow. “Nice try. Tell me everything,”

“I’d like the record to show that you voluntarily asked to know,” Barry says as they enter the elevator, and Eddie looks too excited.

He chokes on a piece of chicken when Barry finally says the name _Leonard Snart_.

(oops.)

 

**_Six: yellow, zinnias_ **

**_yellow is for bitterness, for the stinging pain in your heart, for holding on one last time. Yellow is for promises, for wishes, for hopes, and for painful loves. Yellow is for bittersweet goodbyes._ **

 

Barry will deny hating Rip Hunter for asking Len to leave. He will deny wanting Len to stay as much as he wants him to go. He will deny it all again, and again, and again.

“Barry,” Len says, snapping his fingers in front of the dazed speedster’s face. Barry blinks and returns to reality, confused for a second, then smiles apologetically. “Everything okay?”

“Yeah, of course,” Barry says quickly, holding Len’s hand and pressing it into the couch they’re both sitting on, blankets covering their legs. He holds his hand tightly as if it’s the last time he’s ever going to hold it.

Len has a sinking feeling that it may be.

“I’m going,” he says softly, and Barry sinks into the cushion of the couch in defeat.

“I thought so,” Barry says softly, tightening his grip on Len’s hand.

“Mick’s coming,” Len says, then pauses. “Well, not yet, but I’ll convince him,”

Barry breathes a laugh. “Lisa’s in charge of the rogues, then?”

“Likely,”

Barry sighs, tipping his head back to look at the ceiling.

“Barry?”

“No, it’s nothing,” he says softly. “I guess I just got used to it,”

Len waits for Barry to explain.

“To _this,”_ he raises their connected hands. “To you not trying to kill me, to this whole..”

“Relationship,” Len offers.

“Relationship,” Barry breathes out in agreement.

They sit in silence for a while, the TV running in the background, hands still held so tightly as if Len will dissolve if Barry lets go. Some part of him is happy that Len’s doing more than being a criminal, that he’s being good, that he’s being the person Barry’s believed he could be. But then there’s the part of him that’s selfish, cruel, mean, the part that wants to keep Len from doing all of that because he doesn’t want to be away from him.

“I’ll miss you,” Barry says after a few minutes of silence, shifting to rest his head on Len’s shoulder. Len presses a long kiss into Barry’s hair, and Barry soaks it up, willing himself not to cry.

When he wakes up, he’s alone.

The TV is turned off, Len’s share of blankets folded and left on the coffee table. Barry pushes the awful feeling in the pit of his stomach far, far away, trying to forget it, trying to ignore it, trying to pretend he doesn’t even feel it. He runs his hand over the blankets, breathing in Len’s scent, wishing it would never fade.

He wanders into the kitchen, silence deafening, and finds a bouquet of flowers on the counter. He can’t find it in himself to smile.

 _Zinnias: l_ _asting affection, from the heart_

_Stay good, Barry._

_\- yours_

Barry pins the note to the fridge.

 

**_seven: violet, hyacinths_ **

**_Hyacinths are for apologies._ **

 

Barry learns to live.

Slowly, and surely, he takes his time to do so.

The blankets lose their scent, and so do Len’s clothes. Barry learns to live without them.

Hartley and Lisa demolish the safehouse, ultimately. Barry clears it out before they do, and now he has a Len-sized pile of things in his apartment that feels too empty to come home to. The hydrangeas by the window still bloom and grow, and Barry has to repot Violet on his own. Everything feels a little too lonely.

He still mishears regular words for flowers. Caitlin and Iris had been talking about Iris and Eddie’s wedding, and Barry had heard ‘wisteria’ instead of ‘white dress’. When Cisco had been ranting about the new season of their favourite TV show, he’d misheard ‘character’ for ‘cardinal’.

“Flower delivery,” says a man outside his front door after a knock, and Barry’s heart jumps into his throat. He drops the mug of coffee in his hands while running to the door, swinging it wide open.

Hyacinths.

Barry’s heart melts the way it always did.

“Thank you,” he whispers softly as he takes the flowers, placing them on the coffee table and reaching for the note. He didn’t know that time travelling flower deliveries were possible, but-

_Mister Snart wanted me to send you these in case anything went wrong, along with this message:_

_Never found myself for an ‘if you see this, it means I’m dead’ kinda guy, but here we are, huh? For what it’s worth, you’ll probably be my last thought before I die._

_\- yours forever, Len_

_P.S. hyacinths mean ‘I’m sorry’. Can we name this one Violet 2.0?_

 

**_Hyacinths are for the end._ **

**Author's Note:**

> title is from hakyeon's cactus
> 
> thank you to my inspiration for being amazing and letting me write something inspired by their gorgeous work! if you enjoyed it half as much as i enjoyed yours, that's a win for me <3
> 
> speaking of which, uh.. i really tried the 'colours as kisses' thing, but it didn't work out so well and i wasn't satisfied with it. instead, i added in flowers/flower symbolism and wow, the difference that made!! lemme tell you though, as an art student, keeping the colours out of order was a little physically painful, but it's all good. 
> 
> as always, kudos and comments are appreciated, as well as any tips on how to write atomwave :( i love you all!


End file.
